


The Attack

by lwise2019



Series: Mikkel's Story [35]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23630500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwise2019/pseuds/lwise2019
Summary: The team makes a stand.
Series: Mikkel's Story [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536739
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	The Attack

Bang! _Bang! **Bang!**_

The team forgot their disappointment, leaping to their feet. “It's the scout!” Sigrun said in surprise, gesturing at the perimeter monitor and throwing open the door. Indeed, it was Lalli, who had gone scouting very early, saying only that he felt he'd missed something, and was now returning, banging on the tank with a branch as he ran.

“Translator!” Sigrun called for Tuuri with a broad gesture which nearly smacked the Finnish woman in the face as she was already running forward.

A frantic exchange and, “We've got to go! We're about to be overrun!” Tuuri started for the driver's seat and then hesitated, looking back at Sigrun for permission. Pulling the door to and latching it, the captain ordered, “Go, go, drive!” As the cousins ran for the front of the tank, she pointed to Reynir: “Baggage! Out of the way!” Her thumb jerked over her shoulder needed no translation, and he scooped up the kitten and retreated to the far corner of Mikkel's bunk. “Get ready,” she added to the others unnecessarily as she too ran for the front.

“Sh—should we really try to drive through the night?” Tuuri asked, “What if they catch up to us?”

“I'm sure they will,” Sigrun answered grimly. “We're not trying to escape them. We need a better place to make our stand. Trees are useful for hiding, but garbage if the trolls already know where we are.”

It was late in the day and the night would be the dark of the moon. The tank had powerful driving lights mounted on top for driving at night, but they were fleeing through unscouted terrain. Anything that trapped them, even just delayed them, like another deadfall, a stream too wide to ford, or an overgrown ditch, could be fatal. They had to pick their battlefield before the choice was taken from them.

The sun was near the horizon when Sigrun pointed off the right. “This field here is good enough. Stop here.” The field had recently suffered a wildfire and was quite barren, giving a clear view in all directions.

As soon as they stopped, Mikkel and Emil leapt out and ran to the back compartment to collect more gear. Mikkel was armed with his shotgun, crowbar, and dagger, Emil with his rifle, dagger, and flamethrower, but the Cleanser also had explosives in back with which to rig traps. Sigrun and Lalli would rely on rifles and daggers. The tank was armored but not armed, for the expedition had been organized on a shoestring and it had not been feasible to arm it. The expectation had been that they would only be in the Silent World for a couple of weeks, and if they ran into anything the team could not handle, they would run back to the Öresund base for its protection. All of that had fallen by the wayside with the collapse of the Øresund bridge and now only the skill and courage of the team could save them.

As the sun fell toward the horizon, Mikkel and Emil worked together to rig a perimeter of incendiaries which would light simultaneously when a grossling touched a tripwire. This would, they hoped, burn some, blind or dazzle others, and illuminate all for the gunmen. The tank had perimeter lighting, and Tuuri had been instructed to watch for the incendiaries and, when they were ignited, activate the lighting and retreat to the main compartment, locking the door to the driving compartment behind her, for though the windows were heavy glass, they were weaker than the steel walls and doors which should, they all hoped, suffice to protect the non-immunes.

Sigrun and Lalli were standing guard while the incendiaries were set, but when Mikkel looked up from the work, he found that Lalli was guarding _Reynir_. Leaving Emil to finish up, he rushed to the Icelander's side, shouting “Why are _you_ outside? In! _Now!_ ” Seizing the younger man by the collar, he all but dragged him to the tank and threw him in while the other stumbled towards an explanation: “I – runes – might help – ”

“Idiot child,” Mikkel growled, closing the door and checking that it was locked. If the grosslings had come while the non-immune was outside …he saw the so-called protection runes drawn in the ashy mud of the field outside Emil's perimeter and shook his head in disgust.

“That's all we can do to prepare,” Sigrun concluded, studying their preparations and shrugging at the runes. “It's time we assume battle positions and ask the gods to let us see tomorrow.”

On that cheery note, the four climbed on top of the tank as the sun began to set.

* * *

The sun set in glorious banners of red and gold that would have held every eye in normal conditions, but no one glanced at it, their attention focused on the landscape around them, particularly to the south. They showed no light, made no sound, as they waited in the growing darkness. It was possible, though not likely, that the grosslings would lose track of them.

As he sat alert and silent, sightless in the darkest night, Mikkel sought to understand what was happening, but had only questions. _Where did these grosslings **come** from? Did they follow us from the city? From the hospital? But it was broad daylight! None of us saw them, so they were far back … how did they follow us? Trolls are mindless – get away, hide, keep quiet, and they will often forget you were there. Why – how – could they follow us so far? A pack, staying together for miles … what is happening here? Could they have become … intelligent, here in deserted Denmark, undisturbed for near a century? And if they **are** , here in this little part of the continent, what is happening further south in warmer weather where the monsters are presumably more numerous and more active?_

His anxious thoughts broke off as fire flared before them. “But … I … did not set up explosives over there,” Emil said, bewildered.

“Start picking them off while they're startled by the fire!” Sigrun was far too practical to worry about what had caused the flames. Suiting actions to words, she opened fire and the other three joined her.

It was just like Kastrup for Mikkel: more and ever more grosslings flowing in, climbing over the bodies of the fallen, mindlessly bent on killing. Too many to shoot, too many for the incendiaries and explosives, the grosslings kept coming. The tank had to be protected, so the four defenders jumped down, Mikkel landing with his heavy steel-shanked boots squarely on top of a wide multi-legged troll. They spread out, trying to shield each other's flanks, but there were really too few of them for the task.

Dimly lit by Emil's dying flares and the tank's lights, the scene was a vision of Hell, and the sound was indescribable, shrieks and squeals, moans and roars; bubbling, grinding noises. Trolls and Beasts flooded in, and it was only their lack of coordinated attacks that allowed the team to survive. The creatures got in one another's ways, pushed one another aside, spoiled one another's attacks, and all the time the humans were killing, and killing, and killing. Between attacks, Mikkel tried to keep an eye on Emil, off to his right, and Sigrun to his left. Lalli was behind the tank, and he could only hope the little Finn was still alive.

Mikkel saw Sigrun stumble, drop her dagger, hold her arm; a troll struck at her but its blow was deflected by another troll lunging in; he saw her knocked flying towards him; another troll turned to attack …

His body moved faster than his mind. In the space of a single thought, he was there, his crowbar took the troll's head off, his heavy boots smashed another, and he was pulling her to her feet.

“Did you get the slithering one?” she asked urgently over the uproar.

“I've gotten a fair number of them,” he answered grimly, turning immediately to deal with another. “Not anywhere near enough to thin the herd, it seems.” He passed her his dagger since she had lost her own. “We might be slightly outnumbered here.” She might not have heard over the cacophony, and in any case there was nothing for it but to keep fighting.

They separated again, seeking to keep the grosslings away from the tank and themselves, Mikkel again trying to keep track both of Sigrun, fighting once more, and of Emil, efficiently setting monsters afire, conserving fuel as best he could. And so Mikkel was looking directly at the Cleanser when it happened.

A gout of flame belched forth from the flamethrower, causing Emil to stumble backwards with a cry. The flame grew … and grew … and grew. Before them loomed a vast bird of flame, twenty meters across or more, which circled once ponderously around the battle, chanting in a voice like the tolling of a great bell, while below its wings the grosslings shrieked and burned and died.

Mikkel stood still while his skeptical worldview shriveled and died along with the monsters. His mind and body seemed paralyzed and he could do nothing but watch the firebird in awe.

The circle complete, the firebird sprang into the sky, higher and higher until it was a mere spark. Then it was gone and Mikkel stood in the real world of flickering light and stinking smoke from burning monsters.

There was a shot from behind him: Lalli, then, still fighting. Mikkel pulled himself together as best he could, looked around for live enemies, saw the other two doing likewise. Stunned as they all were by the awesome intervention of the firebird, they had to attend to the mundane realities of survival. But only the humans were left alive on the battlefield.

Feeling a tugging at his sleeve, Mikkel turned sharply to find Lalli pulling at him with an expression of desperation on his normally impassive face. They ran together back to the tank.


End file.
